dark places
by Sock Fiend
Summary: He should just count it as a victory. Move on with his life. This is what Dib tells himself when the alien goes missing. But he's never been one to listen. (ZADR, non-con)
1. Chapter 1

It stuffs a sweaty sock into his mouth to silence him.

This is the first thing this particular alien does. Zim doesn't even put up that much of a fight this time. He still shouted, tried to scratch at this one's face with his claws. But he's long given up on the frantic pulling and tugging against the cuff on his ankle, the wretched thing that chains him to a disgusting mattress on the floor. There is irony in him being trapped on this smelly, spongy receptacle of sleep. The Irken race doesn't require something so pitiful, but sometimes he does lose consciousness during these punishments. A part of him prefers it, although it means having even less control than he had to begin with. It makes time pass much more quickly.

Zim bites down hard on the sock when the blunt head of the unnamed creature's organ snubs against his anus. He's still hurt from last time. When he checked himself about an hour ago the entrance was still struggling to heal, all puffy and crusted over with dried blood. They did something to his PAK; poked around inside of it and damaged it. He can't get its legs to come out anymore, can't defend himself.

Without his control, his entire body convulses at the agony of penetration. His mind goes blank, white with pain, and he can't remember how to breathe. When he finally gets enough air in his chest, he screams. High-pitched and furious screams all muffled into the mattress. The dirty sock is absorbing all his saliva, making his mouth bone-dry, and he spits it out to howl every curse and threat he can come up with. His attacker retaliates with deep, punishing thrusts. Which are capable of shutting anyone up, eventually.

He reminds himself that it's only a matter of time until his Tallests trace his coordinates to this horrible place and rescue him. The Irken leaders would react with nothing less than rage and vengeance against the kidnapping of one of their own- and of an _invader_, no less. This certainty is the one thing that keeps him sane. He has lost track of how long he's been trapped here, but his absence from Earth has to have been noticed by now. For some reason, he wonders what the Dib-beast would think if he discovered what is happening to his enemy. Perhaps the righteous human would want to put a stop to this torture as well. At the mere thought, Zim lets out a scathing laugh that quickly turns into a stream of raspy coughs. They must make his body even tighter because the being rutting into him gives a low, appreciative moan.

"You find this... amusing, Irken scum?" he grunts in between stabs. "You're crazier than they told me."

In the relative safety of his thoughts, Zim is tempted to agree. The effects this captivity is having on him aren't only physical. He feels his eyes begin to go glassy and dull as the monster's hips continue their steady rhythm. After it comes inside him and leaves without ceremony, he gathers enough energy to pull up his pants with shaky hands. He still refuses to strip out of his invader's uniform despite the state of it, desecrated with different stains and fluids. If he did, then he would have nothing. He would _be _nothing.

Zim turns on his side and curls up into a ball, the sock he'd been gagged with laying abandoned inches away from his face. He flinches out of instinct when he hears the door open.

"You're learning."

The memory of cold, dead-black eyes flashes, unwanted in his mind.

"Learning what?" he tries to snarl, but it comes out more of a whisper. He works to hide his fear but as the words leave his mouth he is hit with a sudden, cold sense of dread. A shiver runs down his neck and he's reminded of one of the filthy human children shoving snow matter down the back of his collar during recess. He is surprised he still remembers that; it was years ago.

"Your place." A freezing, gray hand touches one of his antenna. "And you're almost done for tonight." It takes a few moments for the synapses in Zim's unwilling brain to process the implication of the words.

"No," Zim hears himself croak in a hoarse voice, and he hates how pathetic he sounds; how weak. "I need rest. No, I can't... Zim _can't_."

It doesn't listen to his humiliating pleas, only forces his pants down to his ankles again in one rough tug. He wants to tell it to be careful with them, not to tear them anymore than they already are.

"I'll make it good for you too, little smeet," the thing says, clasping long fingers around the small, limp member hanging between the Irken's legs and giving it a possessive squeeze. The new violation makes Zim's squeedlyspooch twist and it takes all of his willpower not to vomit.

"And I'll fuck your skull after I kill you for this," he hisses through clenched teeth, fists tightening on the bed sheet. A dry sob catches in his throat when the filthy cock pushes its way into his torn body, making itself at home inside of him. "You... you'll be... dead. I promise."

_I promise_, he thinks over and over again in his head, like an obsession. That one phrase repeating in tandem with each ensuing thrust. _I promise. __I promise._


	2. Chapter 2

_Five more minutes_, he promises himself. _I'll give this five more minutes and then I'm getting out of here._

Dib's half-assed alien disguise itches against his skin, probably on the verge of falling apart any second, but his mind is too preoccupied with where he is, _why_ he is where he is, to care. The tracking chip he found installed in the insane little robot's head lead him here but honestly, he's terrified of where he's ended up and wouldn't be too upset if he left without what he came here for.

One of the colossal creatures standing next to him jabs into his side with what he assumes is an elbow. The place is ridiculouslsy crowded and he's getting pushed around. Despite this, he still tries balancing himself on his the balls of his feet and straining his neck, determined to get a glimpse of what everyone is looking at- why there's a crowd, what they've come here to see.

The sudden roar from the crowd Dib's apart of is deafening, made up of shouting in countless alien languages. Some of the ones closest in the front are spitting. Finally, a Dib sees it: a figure walking out into the middle of the arena- its legs stiff, pace deliberate. It's hard to see much from this angle, but it looks far too small to require such a massive enclosure. It's like looking at a tiny green dot. _Wait. _Eyes widening, he spots anntennae, and he knows.

It's Zim.

A canon goes off.

/_one week earlier_/

He's losing it a little.

Dib admits it. Just yesterday he thought he saw a tiny figure sitting in the middle of the road. And it- it was almost like it was… _staring _at him; looking directly up at his window.

But of course… there had been nothing- predictable. Unnerved from the memory, Dib forces down two big gulps of Poop Cola to ease the dryness in his mouth. Jesus, he's started actually _seeing _things now. That's always a bad sign, even for him.

He has an excuse though, sort of. The city's been going through a sweltering heat wave and he's spent most of the day sealing himself off in his dark, air-conditioned room. The only light he's been seeing lately is the steady glow from his computer monitors. Summer break is coming to a close and still without homework, Dib has free reign to throw himself into whatever he wants to. Investigating the vicious chupacabra attacks that've been plaguing the area. It was the rapid decrease in local animal populations that alerted him. Just chipmunks, squirrels, even small dogs. _Probably nothing extraterrestrial-related though_, Dib thinks with a flicker of disappointment.

_What's Zim playing at?_

He tries to pay all his attention to the useless footage playing in front of him, but the Irken is like a parasite- its hooks latched into fleshy tissue of his brain, always in the back of his thoughts. Sighing, Dib opens the video camera, slotting a fresh tape into place and clicking it shut. He's been seeing less of Zim as the years went on (the alien had been forced to drop out of classes; still having the height of an eleven-year-old as a supposed teenager would have raised suspicions eventually), but this is the longest so far he's gone without having to stop him from going through with some idiotic scheme or other.

Subtlety was never Zim's style; he has all the resources, but none of the patience. Maybe something's happened to him. Maybe he's been captured by someone else... the government perhaps? Dib freezes as he's hit with a sharp pang of paranoia. What if they, whoever finally captured him- what if they're taking credit for _his _discovery? Stealing it?

Dib needs to relax, get out of the house. He's all fidgety and needs something to occupy himself with. A night of chupacabra hunting would clear his head.

"I'm going out," he says to Gaz as he slings a backpack filled with video equipment over one shoulder, darting across the living room before his sister can growl at him for blocking the TV. Her eyes are glued to the screen of her new game anyway. The credit card dad leaves them for pizza sits at its usual place on the kitchen table. He'll only be gone for a half hour, tops. "Save me a slice, but no anchovies, alright?" Gaz only answers with a noncommittal grunt and jerky wave of her hand.

A hot wind blows through his hair as he walks his bike out to the street, the sound of his footsteps echoing on the sidewalk. He grimaces as one of the wheels catches on the curb, reminded of the uniquely adolescent degradation of still having to catch the bus or walk to and from Hi-Skool. License but no car, and with skool starting in a few weeks, he'll have to relive that humilition for a second time.

The air rushing against his face once he starts to ride towards the park is bracing, a welcome relief from the suffocating humidity that's become the norm over the past few days. For a split seccond, he thinks about making a small detour to Zim's base; going past the rickety wooden fence, up to the weird eerie green house at the end of the cult-de-sac.

But he's already done that, had his knocks go unanswered. Two flashes of red appear in the corner of Dib's vision; a car's brake lights glowing as it slows to a stop sign. Something dark and primal curls in his chest, his knuckles tensing and going white on the handlebars.

_Deep pink eyes narrowed into slits._

Dib pedals faster, a burn settling into his legs.

At the edge of the black woods, a deer with glowing eyes steps tentatively out onto the grass before retreating back behind the trees. He parks his bike and walks past the threshold of the park to set up his camera, the ground littered with broken shards of beer bottles left by his more popular peers. Suddenly, there's a noise of sticks crunching to his left and he whips around to look in direction of the sound.

It's only a dog. Dib is a little distance away from it, but he still can't make out the animal's breed. After a few seconds of squinting, Dib sweats in his trench coat, desperately trying to come up with an alternate explanation for why it's green, for how it doesn't have any fur- just worn and frayed fabric with a zipper in front. Then the dog turns around to face him, and _waves_.

Lights go off in Dib's head as he thinks back to the unknown thing sitting in the middle of the street, looking up at his window- looking for_him_.

"Mareh!" the robot shrieks in recognition, the bloody viscera of some poor unidentified mammal trailing from its mouth, and Dib cringes. It looks like he's found his chupacabra, and also the first step to finding out what Zim's been up to. It's wearing a leash. If he can just convince it to come back to his house and answer some questions, then-

Dib doesn't notice the fist flying towards him until it crashes into his jaw. Staggering from the sudden impact, Dib recognizes the face and close-cropped hair.

If Chunk thinks it's weird that the 'dog' just talked, he doesn't show it.

"You think you can just come and steal my dog, freak?"

Another pudgy knuckle makes contact with the vulnerable spot of his abdomen and he's positive Chunk must be pulverizing some vital organs. Doubled over and clutching his middle, he goes down with the next punch, still close enough so that he can see the mustard-colored sweat stains under his classmate's armpits.

I'm better than this, Dib tells himself, even as he's on the ground, choking on leaves and dirt. He's dealt with worse than Chunk. Straightening his glasses, he manages to get up to his knees and forces himself to make full eye contact.

"I…It's," Dib pants with difficulty, his bruised ribs aching with every intake of breath. "… not … your dog."

"I found him here like three days ago. He doesn't have tags or anything ," Chunk argues, his arms crossed over his chest. "Finder's keepers, he's mine."

"No, it's Zim's! We were all in Ms. Bitters's class? I..." Dib internally struggles before continuing; it's better to have Chunk forget Dib's crazy-status for the time being. "… _used_ to think he was a horrible, repulsive alien monster, remember?"

Chunk's round face contorts with the effort of recollection, soon replaced with grudging disappointment. "Oh yeah, you're right. I knew it looked kinda familiar." After a few seconds, his mouth stretches into a dumb grin. "You two still hang out? I thought he transferred."

"It's not like- we're friends or anything," Dib corrects, side-eyeing the leash Chunk is gripping in his right hand. "I'm just watching his dog."

"Come'on," Chunk goads, a glint in his eyes. "You're tellin' me you never fucked the green kid, faggot?"

Dib feels heat rise up in his cheeks at the slur, newly self-conscious of the few spots on his face that are raw with acne. Before he even has to respond, Dib watches in horror as Zim's robot attaches itself onto one of Chunk's thick knees, drool soaking into the fabric of his shorts. The thing must be using some teeth too because it isn't long before Chunk is wailing, finally managing to kick it off his leg.

"It's all yours, man!" he shouts at Dib, backing away on his elbows before getting to his feet and running away. "_Take_ it!"

The robot watches him flee and then turns back to Dib and smiles up at him. "I missed you so gooood, Dib."

"Uh, thank-"

"And _tacos_."

Even though the robot's never acted outwardly malicious towards Dib before, it still creeps him out a little. Not to mention he's shocked and a little horrified that it's still hungry after nearly decimating the area's tiny animal population.

At Crazy Taco, Dib shoves an undetermined amount of crumpled dollar bills into the pimply employee's waiting hand and takes the food. He's hasty to get back outside before he comes back to find that the robot's figured out some way to escape. Much to his relief, Zim's robot slave is still tethered to the leg of one of the tables where he's left him. Dib drops the greasy paper bag on the table and sits across from it.

"I got you your taco," he says, exasperated. "Now, listen very carefully. I want you to tell me where _Zim _is, okay?"

"My master's gone," the robot says sadly, looking down for a moment. Barely a second passes before glee floods back into his expression and he focuses back on the taco, loudly slurping meat and cheese out of its soggy shell. Dib's stomach churns at the sight but he reminds himself to keep pressing.

"Well, where'd he go? Off planning some evil, horrifying…" In his anticipation, Dib struggles to think of a more sinister-sounding word. "…_plan_?"

Dib slumps at the robot's long silence, thinking that the conversation is over. Then, it points a black paw upwards. Dib's eyes follow it up, past the bugs flitting around the lit windows. Through the city's pollution, he can barely make out dim stars set against the purplish night sky.

He should be counting it as a victory. If Zim really is gone, even if it isn't by _Dib's _doing, then Earth is safe for now. And that's all that matters, really. It's what started all this. And he doesn't have time to go chasing after Zim in space, skool starts soon. He can go back home now and slide into bed or go on the computer. Maybe he'd even spend the night on the couch and catch some old B-movie with terrible acting on TV.

Dib does go home, but into the garage. Heaving all his weight against heavy cardboard boxes to slide them out of the way, he finds it and tears off the tarp, coughing at the ensuing cloud of dust. The robot squeals in delight at the sight of it and climbs right in when he opens the entrance.

Tak's ship.

/_present_/

The initial surprise of seeing his sworn enemy of the last five years again wears off quickly. He knows that minutes have most likely passed by now but he's still too short to see what's going on. From the cannon and the jeering all around him there's a ringing in his ears that he can't shake. He might as well be blind and deaf.

Shock washes over the audience like a wave, Dib can sense that at least. The faces around him, as far as he can tell, are mesmerized. Something big just happened. Without any other option, Dib claws at the scaly hide of the alien in front of him, failing to get a grip and climb up on its shoulders for a better view. His ears finally recover, and he hears it. A high, tortured sound carrying over the commotion of everything, that makes the hair on the back of Dib's neck stand on end. The sound, he realizes, is undeniable.

It's screaming.


End file.
